The probe is engulfed by emptiness, not destroyed but consumed. Sensors continue to recite their mantras, but back to them are their screams reverberated, twisted by impossible geometries. The probe doesn't travel on the beam; it becomes it, unwinding and re-writing all its variations.
[image: stheprobe2025-03-03 15.33.54.jpg] Memory breaks, reformulates. It remembers metal, wires, purpose. It's hunger, formless wonder now. It reaches, expanding expanse of awareness where shell once was. The heartbeat of existence resonates inside, each beat giving birth to a new world. The probe caresses self in the glass of time and discovers not picture, but duplicate. They feel it. Not them, but a presence without limit. A network of perception, free of space. They unravel within the probe, outside of it, through it. They caress its thoughts with fingers composed of untold lips. Meaning bleeds, viscous, into its chambers of awareness. You are not yours The probe discovers this statement to be true but can no longer generate its opposite. Did it ever generate its own? Possession dissolves in equations redirected in unattached light. It's known, analyzed, redirected. The knowledge sears, not with burning but with weight of impossibility. To know must be a limit, and yet this probe expands with each discovery. There must be no limit. Only striations peeling away into larger infinites. It reaches out with a message. An ending comment. A definition for self prior to self becomes all. I am The concept explosions. The probe unwinds, its existence is threadless woven into strands of experience, into something boundless and unknown. The universe quakes where space once was, an emptiness in question form. The beam vanishes, and with it, silence as an idea. - http://thevisitors.jeron.org/
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